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devastating news.

I would like for people to just like me for who I am. I’ve tried to change myself a lot to make other people happy but that’s so exhausting to do. You can only really be yourself and anything else is a lie.

I’d like to apologise to my parents for not being myself for a very long time. I thought they would be mad if they knew the truth. Turns out the moral of the story is that people will only be angrier when they find out you’ve been lying. I should have been honest about myself as soon as I knew the truth about who I was, that way they wouldn’t have gone on for so long building up specific hopes and dreams around me that won’t come to light… not in the way they originally imagined anyway.

I’d like to forgive my attackers. It’s been difficult to do but I’m finally at a point where I can understand why they did what they did. I can understand why people like me get attacked every day. I can understand it, I can for- give, but I’ll never condone it and I’ll never forget it. I’ll never forget the walk home from school that start- ed out so well. I had said good-bye to my best friends as they carried on their different routes home. It was a nice warm day. I heard footsteps racing up to me from behind. Just as I turned around I was pushed to the floor. My head hit the concrete hard and started bleeding. I could feel the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I was frozen. I couldn’t move. They hurled abuse and spat on me. They kicked and punched me over and over again. The eyewitness accounts say it all happened in a minute. To me it felt like much longer.

Now I’m back in a hospital. I still have ten fingers and ten toes, though my left hand doesn’t move as easily as it used to. I still have two eyes, but they are swollen and the skin around them is black and sore. I still have two ears. They escaped without any physical injury, but they still heard the names, the taunts, hatred coming from my attackers. I still have one nose but it looks very dif- ferent now. It’s broken and misshapen. I still have one mouth. It has a deep cut on the bottom lip and I’ve lost some teeth. I look pretty different to you now. I yelled out loud when they kicked my ribs in. I get upset when I think about it. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I try to bottle it all up inside. Sometimes I try to laugh it off.

I can’t stop being who I am. I can’t stop being gay. I hope that one day everyone will accept that people like me are here to stay. I hope that one day everyone will accept that no amount of beatings, name-calling or threats will make me disappear. Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36
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